


Give me Divinity

by aroundloafofbread, Wolven_Spirits



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, art and writing collab, the art is sfw, the writing is not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Tom Riddle fashioned himself into a deity. All of wizarding Britain worships him. All except for one rebellious Harry Potter.Tom will have to take… special measures to make this one submit.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 16
Kudos: 663
Collections: Harry Potter





	Give me Divinity

**Author's Note:**

> Art and beta-ing by aroundloafofbread
> 
> Writing by Wolven_Spirits

Harry refused to break. He was strong. He’d been in this position before - hanging naked in a cold cell, and it was nowhere near enough to make him submit.

He’d grown up with the Dursleys until he was eleven. He knew how to suffer through hunger. How to stay curled up uncomfortably in his cupboard. How to stay silent despite his misery. No matter how these damn Death Eaters tried to convert him - tried to twist his mind - he would not break.

He _refused_.

“Particularly troublesome, you say?” The voice that filtered through the bars of his cell made Harry freeze. He knew that voice. It was one he heard each morning as they prayed, bowing down to a Lord he had never even heard of before he was taken from Privet Drive on his eleventh birthday.

Certainly the Dursleys had never told him of any deity named ‘Lord Voldemort’.

The door to his cell creaked open and Harry found himself staring straight at the being the whole compound worshiped. 

Harry had never paid too much attention to the whole ‘praise our Lord’ shtick. Had never bothered actually praying or even believing. For surely, if a divine being walked amongst mortals, he would have heard of it long before being brought to the compound. 

But as Harry stared at the face of this supposedly divine being he couldn’t help but wonder if he truly was, perhaps, something more than human.

Because no one could possibly be that incredibly handsome. That beautiful. For he was perfect in every way, radiating power like Harry had never felt before. He found his breaths quickening as the being stepped into his cell, his presence heavy, weighted.

“Yes, My Lord,” the masked death eater at his side simpered. “He should have been initiated a year ago when he came of age, but he resisted all attempts at proper education. We put him in reeducation for a year, but he resisted that too.”

Lord Voldemort hummed in acknowledgement as he stepped closer, peering at Harry with cold, red eyes. “Yes,” he murmured, his eyes drifting along Harry’s form. “I can see why you did not simply send him to be a labourer. He has much potential. You have done well.” He watched with a smile as Harry leaned back warily, unable to move much against his restraints. “I will take care of this one personally.”

“Magic is Might,” the death eater intoned with a bow before leaving Harry alone with Lord Voldemort.

Harry felt a cold sliver of dread snake its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down stubbornly. He would not allow himself to cower in fear. Nor would he allow this - this being to break him. He had survived this long with his sanity. He would not let it go now.

No, he would resist, and Lord Voldemort would deem him a lost cause. He would be sent out as a worker whose only use was simple manual labour. And then he would escape to freedom, and hide in the muggle world for the rest of his life. It would be a shame, of course, to stop using his magic, but he could live with it if it meant escaping this brainwashing cult.

Lord Voldemort circled him, eyeing his form in a calculating manner - the way one would a prized dog. Harry’s chains clinked as he shifted under the heavy scrutiny. The creature’s gaze was far more powerful than any of the death eaters’. Even Snape’s held nothing on Lord Voldemort’s.

“Strong-willed, aren’t you,” Voldemort said, tilting his head curiously. “To continuously stand against your teachers, your betters. Do you think yourself above everyone, Harry? Do you think yourself more intelligent? Do you think yourself above the rules?”

Harry pursed his lips and gave a minute shake of his head. He didn’t. Really, he didn’t he just - 

“No? Because I think you do.” Voldemort trailed a hand along Harry’s shoulder. Magic seemed to hum where their skin touched. “I think you feel superior to everyone here, and so you laugh when they try and help you and guide you down the right path. But,” he smiled. It would have looked benign if not for the darkness in his eyes. “I will show you the error of your ways. I will help you overcome your arrogance. And in the end, you, too, will see that the greatest blessing is to kneel before me.”

Harry glared. “I won’t kneel,” he said through gritted teeth. He regretted the words almost immediately as Voldemort stilled, his nails digging into Harry’s skin. The magic in the room flared, and for a moment Harry couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think through the oppressive darkness.

And then it was gone and Voldemort was smiling once more. “Oh, you will, Harry,” he purred, his fingers scraping along the underside of Harry’s jaw. “I guarantee it.”

Then he stepped back behind Harry and traced a finger down his spine. He must be doing something to the runes, Harry realized in mild panic. He did not know exactly what the runes meant - they were not allowed to learn such magics - but he knew that every new member was branded with a series of runes the moment they stepped foot in the compound.

There was a tingle as Voldemort paused on one of them, and a rush of magic swept through Harry’s body. He shivered, but did not feel any different once it settled. His fists clenched above him where they were chained and he shifted on his feet. He had been standing in this position for almost a day, and though he was used to the position, it was not particularly comfortable.

“Now,” Voldemort murmured, “I will teach you of divine pleasure. It is a privilege I am bestowing upon you, Harry. One that I am certain will persuade you to kneel for me.”

Harry couldn’t help the dubious expression that crossed his face. Divine pleasure? It sounded like some kind of fairy tale spell - a stretch even for the magical world.

“Normally only a select few death eaters are allowed to experience the pleasures of the body, but I am making an exception for you, Harry. I believe you will require a… special touch.” He flicked his wand and silver metal flowed from the tip, forming into a small bracelet. Then it twisted until it was an odd double-ring, attached in the middle. 

Harry stared warily. He didn’t know what it was, but he doubted it was anything good. Then Voldemort plucked the strange device from the air with one hand, his other trailing lightly up Harry’s thigh. It tingled, sending shivers across Harry’s skin, and he wasn’t quite sure why he felt warm all of a sudden. It was a strange rush of blood that had him wriggling uncomfortably.

His motions made Voldemort’s smile widen and the man then moved to grip his cock and slide on the top part of the ring. Harry felt a burst of trepidation about just how close Voldemort was to a place so vulnerable, but he tried to rein in his fear of any impending pain. Surely… surely the man would not try and maim him? 

Voldemort’s grip was warm on the sensitive skin of Harry’s cock, and he found himself feeling a little breathless, an odd spark of pleasure igniting in his gut as his member was handled gently, soft hands sliding along the skin. 

He licked his lips as his balls were taken in hand and threaded through the second loop. The metal was cool against his sensitive skin, but it warmed quickly. Harry watched warily as Voldemort tapped the device with his wand. It began to shrink and for a moment Harry tensed, horrified, awaiting the pain that was sure to follow.

But then it stopped, only mildly uncomfortable as it rested, just a little too tight. Harry let out a breath of relief, not quite sure why Voldemort was smirking at him. The manacles around his wrists were far more uncomfortable than this strange device, after all.

Harry could not tell what Voldemort was thinking as he eyed Harry once more, his gaze lingering on his member, but he found himself flushing a little, oddly shy about the fact that Voldemort could see him naked.

It wasn’t as if Harry had never been seen naked before - most punishments meant he was not allowed to wear his robes. But there was something different about this instance, and it made him twitch.

He was still half expecting to be tortured, despite Voldemort’s promise of divine pleasure. There was a dark look on the being’s face that promised far more than his words conveyed.

“You’re being very good right now, Harry. I almost wish I could let you go without punishment. But pain and pleasure blend so beautifully that I think you will enjoy it.”

Voldemort, Harry decided, was crazy. Absolutely nuts. Because who in the world would find pleasure from pain? He watched warily as Voldemort flicked his wand yet again.

This time he conjured a wooden paddle, about twice the size of Harry’s hand. Voldemort stroked it contemplatively for a moment. 

“My goal is not to torture you, Harry. I do hope you understand this. The point of this… exercise is to teach you. You must learn humility, Harry. You must learn your place. There will be pain, but fear not. You will learn to crave it.”

Harry shifted, his eyes watching the paddle until Voldemort moved behind him where he could not see. He tensed, ready for the sharp pain to hit him. But Voldemort was taking his time, his free hand stroking up Harry’s legs and along his ass, then caressing his hip from behind. 

It was strange how much the touch affected him. Harry had not experienced many gentle touches. The Dursleys had certainly never bothered to give him any hugs or even a pat on the head. 

The death eaters that had taken him from Privet Drive had been nice enough, promising him a world of magic and wonder. They had embraced him gently as they apparated him away, and Harry had reveled in the gentle touch.

At least he had until he had realized that they were obsessed with Lord Voldemort and everything that they did was for him. Their kindness had nothing to do with Harry, and everything to do with their ultimate goal of converting all who bore magic.

Harry’s peers had been nice enough, but with how strict the death eaters were, there was little chance for friendly interaction. Their focus was to be on their Lord, after all, not each other.

It would explain, then, why Harry shivered with each caress. Why his skin prickled and his heart beat faster as Voldemort’s fingers dipped between his thighs. There was an odd stirring in his groin - one he had never felt before, and Harry found himself looking down in consternation. 

_Smack_.

The first hit took him by surprise and he inhaled sharply, more shocked than in pain. It wasn’t a hard hit - certainly lighter than Dudley’s punches, but Harry couldn’t help the flinch that accompanied the strike. Nor could he prevent the way he tensed as Voldemort’s fingers traced the spot he had just struck. It was just a gentle brush of skin against skin, but it felt… strangely nice. Harry found himself relaxing again to the soothing pattern of Voldemort’s caress.

 _Smack_.

Harry jerked slightly, but not as much as the first hit, to his relief. The paddle stung, but it was not true pain - not like the spell that the death eater had used when Harry had spoken blasphemous words to his face, cursing Voldemort instead of praying. Or when Harry had tried to escape time and time again. 

No, this was mild in comparison, and Harry hated being grateful for such reprieve.

 _Smack_.

This time, Harry was prepared, and he tensed briefly, but otherwise did not react. Once again, Voldemort’s fingers traced the skin he had just hit. His ass felt hot now, where he had been struck, and overly sensitive. And Harry was torn, enjoying the cool sensation of Voldemort’s hand, but also feeling a strange urge to wriggle as a foreign sensation curled in his stomach.

 _Smack_.

Harry was feeling hot, his lips parted as he breathed quickly. The quick sharp pain accompanied by the soothing touch was an odd dichotomy and Harry wondered if some strange spell had been cast upon him that he was not protesting more. 

_Smack_.

Harry felt his cock twitch and he frowned, glancing down. To his horror, he realized that his cock had swollen slightly, and had begun to rise. What - was this another spell? Some strange new torture? It didn’t hurt at all, even though the ring around his member felt tighter. No, it didn’t hurt. It felt… strangely nice, in fact. 

_Smack_.

Harry bore through the sting, relaxing as Voldemort’s fingers returned. He shouldn’t be anticipating the touch. He should be furious that Voldemort was subjecting him to such a punishment. 

But each time those damn fingers brushed against his skin, he found himself shivering pleasantly, wishing that Voldemort would keep going just a little longer.

 _Smack_.

Harry’s cock twitched again, and he watched in slight horror as it thickened further, accompanied by a hot shiver of pleasure. His eyes flicked to the side but he could not see Voldemort, and he did not want to alert him as to his predicament. Because either Harry was having some kind of mutated reaction to a spell, or this was exactly what Voldemort wished to happen.

Divine pleasure, he had said.

 _Smack_.

Harry held back a gasp as his cock throbbed, thick and hard, bobbing slightly as he shifted, trying to relieve some of the pressure. The rings around him suddenly felt far too restrictive, and Harry found his hips jerking slightly as Voldemort touched him.

“Harry,” Voldemort said, his hand drifting upwards and tracing along his spine. “How are you feeling?”

Harry squirmed. “F-Fine,” he said. “I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, hoping Voldemort would not walk around and see.

“Are you?” Voldemort’s nose brushed his ear as he stepped forward, his body hot against Harry’s back. The cloth of his robes felt coarse against Harry’s ass and he winced slightly. Then he froze as Voldemort’s hand made its way up his leg, coming dangerously close to his cock.

“There’s - “ he stuttered. “Something strange.” He flushed at his own words, but felt relieved when Voldemort paused, his hands just brushing against his balls.

“Oh?” Voldemort’s lips brushed against the skin of his neck, eliciting a strong shiver, and another twitch of his cock.

“I - I don’t know why, it just… just happened. I - there might be something wrong. Maybe a spell went wrong, or - “

Voldemort’s lips curled upwards against his skin, and a low chuckle escaped his lips, his breath hot. “Oh Harry, so innocent.” His hand moved upwards, tracing the metal ring for a moment before moving to Harry’s cock.

His fingers lingered, feather light, almost torturously light. Harry’s hips jerked, embarrassed that Voldemort knew of his strange reaction, and yet wanting even more of his touch. Each brush sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and Harry could feel something building. 

He thought he might explode, if this kept going, but he could not deny that he wanted more. 

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Harry,” Voldemort murmured. “I told you I would teach you of pleasure.” 

Then Voldemort’s hand closed around Harry’s cock and he found himself arching backwards, his head falling back, his mouth gaping as he cried out, pleasure flooding him as Voldemort’s hot grip engulfed him and moved, enveloping him in tight warmth.

“Ah,” Harry panted. “I don’t - ” his breath hitched. “I can’t - “ his hips jerked helplessly as Voldemort stroked him, torturously slow. Oh, but it felt so _good_. He had never even heard of such pleasure - never known that such a thing could exist. 

He should be resisting, he knew. Fighting back had been his mantra for most of his nine years on the compound, but as Voldemort’s finger pressed into the slit of his cock, he could only sob helplessly. 

It felt good - so good that he thought he might fall apart, piece by piece, until he could no longer think, no longer see, no longer feel anything but Voldemort’s hand around him.

Everything was hot. Harry was panting, sweat beading upon his brow, and his muscles trembled as he was stroked. The ring around his cock was too tight, but he could ignore the pain - incorporate it, even, to the pleasure that surged through him. The pain of his punishment had brought him such pleasure, after all. This seemed no different, blending together in a strange harmony.

Harry felt dizzy as his toes curled and his fists clenched, straining against his manacles. It was so much - too much - he was going to go crazy if it did not end. His vision spotted as he gasped for air, for reprieve. He felt so close - but to what, he did not know. All he knew was that he needed - oh lord, but he needed.

“I - “ he sobbed, “I might die.”

Voldemort stilled his hand and Harry wished, then, that he had not said anything at all. Dying was preferable to the feeling of loss as the hand around his cock loosened, then pulled away. Harry whimpered, his hips thrusting forward, searching for the warmth and friction he needed.

But Voldemort merely chuckled, pulling away entirely as he stepped back, leaving Harry feeling cold. 

“I will not let you die, Harry. Do not fear. I take care of all of my followers. And you, precious one, are far too powerful to let go.” He stepped around Harry until they were face to face once more. Voldemort was at least a head taller than Harry, and he had to bend down to bring his face next to Harry’s. He paused there for a breath, then two. “Your magic,” he murmured, “is so very sweet.” 

Harry shivered, the being’s proximity making his cock twitch. He twisted in his binds, but he could not move more than a few inches. 

“I wish for you to join me, Harry, body, mind, and soul. I wish for you to be mine. I wish for you to kneel for your lord, that I might reward you, and bring you pleasure as no one else can.”

Harry bit his lip to hold back any more embarrassing sounds as Voldemort’s gaze lingered on his cock. How he wanted the being’s touch - how he wanted to feel the warmth of his hand moving, spreading such divine ecstasy.

But he had promised himself - promised that he would not kneel before a being that wanted servitude. Because the Dursleys had tried to force him to yield to their wishes - to serve them as little better than a slave - and Harry had refused.

And he - he couldn’t submit now. Not when he had resisted for so long. Ron, Hermione - all of his friends had succumbed to this being, one by one, but Harry had persisted, stubborn to the end. He couldn’t just - 

Something must have shown on his face, for Voldemort frowned, looking disappointed.

“Harry,” the being sighed. “I am showing you a great kindness, and yet you reject it.” Something like hurt flashed across the being’s face, and Harry found himself looking down, fighting the shame that bubbled upwards.

Perhaps he was rejecting kindness, but - he couldn’t go back on his word now, even if his only promise was to himself. He just - he couldn’t. 

“So stubborn,” Voldemort sighed. “Why can’t you see that all I want is what is best for you, Harry?”

Harry clenched his fists even tighter. Did he? Did Voldemort truly have such benevolent intentions? 

Of that, Harry doubted. Because he remembered first arriving at the compound and meeting the others his age. He remembered Ron Weasley, a boy almost as stubborn as Harry, who, in the quiet of the night, whispered of a time Before. When things were different and there was no God of Witches and Wizards. When instead of the Walpurgis Compound, children went to a magical place called Hogwarts.

It had sounded almost too good to be true, but Ron had insisted that his grandparents had experienced this before Voldemort took over. That his parents, when he was younger, had told Ron and his siblings such wondrous tales passed down from their parents.

That was, of course, until four years into their education when Ron had been offered an opportunity that none of his siblings had received. A chance to prove himself. What it had entailed, Harry did not know. But when he had seen Ron again a year later, his friend had… changed. _Just fairy tales_ , Ron had dismissed when Harry asked about Hogwarts. _None of it was real. It’s a cute thought, but I’m old enough to know better now_.

And it hurt to watch his friend bend to his knees without thought, eyes downcast where once they had blazed with fire.

Harry never asked again, feeling so very alone in his bid for something more than mere servitude. 

Freedom. He longed for freedom. He had hoped that the magical world would be his escape, but as he had watched his friends succumb to the teachings of Voldemort’s death eaters, he had known that this was not it. It was merely another set of chains.

Harry pulled at his restrains and shook his head. His thoughts were muddied, his body yearning for something more and yet his mind rebelling. 

Voldemort was stroking his hair, his touch soothing. He sighed again, so very disappointed, as Harry refused him once again. 

He trailed a hand down to Harry’s cock, his touch feather-light, stimulating with no reprieve. Harry’s hips jerked at the teasing sensation, forcing back a whine. It was just enough to remind him of his want, his need. 

“You know,” Voldemort murmured, watching Harry’s reaction with a sharp intensity, “such pleasure is normally reserved for my most loyal. For it is through this pleasure that they are able to procreate.”

Harry choked. “P-Procreate?” He had seen the children of death eaters around the compound - Draco Malfoy certainly made his status obvious - but to create children took a man and a woman. Harry knew that, at the very least.

“But,” Voldemort mused as he flicked his finger across the head of Harry’s cock, eyes lidding as Harry cried out. “In this case, you need not worry about that. What I intend is to show you true divinity. It is what you may receive, should you bow to me. What you have felt is but a glimpse of what pleasure truly means. And Harry,” he reached up to cup Harry’s chin, forcing his head upwards so that their gazes should meet. “Do you not wish for more?”

More. More. Oh, Harry ached for more. His cock throbbed with need, his entire being threaded with desire. 

But Harry shook his head mutely, unwilling to open his lips and blurt out the truth. Because he wanted. But he could not allow himself to bow. He had his plans to escape to freedom. He could not allow himself to be thwarted now when he was so close.

Something flashed across Voldemort’s face. Something that Harry could not quite identify. Then the being sighed, looking resigned. “Must you force me so, Harry?” He traced a finger along Harry’s jaw, the sensation both sensual and ominous, as his nail left a trail of red in the wake of its scratch. 

Harry trembled, his gaze still caught in Voldemort’s red, red, red eyes. His thoughts flew, leaping from one to the next, and Harry found himself unable to quite control his own mind. Confusion leapt and he shuddered as his thoughts buckled and roiled. He gave a whimper, his head jerking back out of Voldemort’s touch, his eyes clenching shut.

“Hush, sweet Harry,” Voldemort crooned, stepping forward and pulling Harry’s head to his shoulder where it nestled in the crook of his neck. “I’ll make everything better. I’ll fix you, until all you can think of is me. Then all will be as it should.”

Harry tried to shake his head, but Voldemort’s grip was too strong, and he could only struggle futilely, his mind still muddled. He couldn’t quite remember what they had been talking about, but he knew that something wasn’t quite right. Escape. Yes - he had wanted to escape. From the compound. From Voldemort and his death eaters and the invisible chains that shackled all magical beings.

“Harry,” Voldemort scolded, his fingers threading through Harry’s hair and gripping painfully tight. “You didn’t think I would ever let you go, did you?”

This close to the god-like being, Harry could practically smell the shadows that lingered like a dusting of copper upon the Voldemort’s skin. It was strangely appealing, even though it reminded him of blood.

Lord, what was wrong with him?

“Why,” he managed to croak, his thoughts finally starting to settle. His defiance should have brought him scorn. Should have had him cast away. For there was no use in one who would not bend to the whim of a dictator.

“I told you, Harry,” Voldemort said, laughing as if something Harry said delighted him so. “Such power cannot be wasted.” His grip tightened. “You will be great one day, Harry. All you have to do… is _kneel_.”

It was as if Voldemort had threaded magic through his voice, for Harry felt the urge to do as the being said - to prostrate himself before his lord. To bare his neck and please his lord.

Then his stubbornness flared. “Never,” Harry said, the word a breathless tremble that stumbled into being like a newborn foal.

Voldemort said nothing. He toyed with Harry’s hair, his movements so calm and lulling that Harry almost didn’t notice when he drew his wand with his other hand.

“I’m afraid you give me no choice, Harry,” the being said finally, his wand tracing just under Harry’s eye. It was glowing black - a spell that Harry knew all too well. “Remember. I can give you what you need. All you have to do is kneel.”

Then everything went dark, and everything went silent.

Harry went still. The first few minutes were always the most disorienting. But, he always told himself, it wasn’t so different from his cupboard where he had been trapped in the dark for so long. 

He stumbled slightly as Voldemort released him, likely stepping back. Then the chains disappeared and he floundered for a moment, his arms spread wide and his steps staggering until he balanced himself.

For a while there was nothing. Unable to see, he strained to hear, even though he knew that his ears were as useless as his eyes. 

His skin prickled, and he was certain that he was being watched. Unless it was his imagination - perhaps Voldemort had left him?

But no, he could not allow himself to relax his guard. Could not allow himself to be lured into a false sense of security when his biggest predator was right there, watching him like a wolf stalking its prey. 

No, not a wolf.

A snake, circling tighter and tighter until it had Harry trapped in its coils. Until it was so close that there was nowhere that Harry could run that it could not reach out and strike him down.

Harry licked his lips, his skin prickling, hyper-aware of the way the air flowed. There was a soft gust to his right. He turned his head, and was rewarded with a light touch to his cheek.

He jolted, unable to help himself, his arm reaching out almost automatically only to find that there was nothing. The touch, strangely hot, sparked shudders down his spine. All these times that he had been subjected to this punishment - to partial sensory deprivation - he had never been touched. Had never felt anyone else’s skin against his. He had always been alone, able to deal with the isolation the way he had with the Dursleys.

But now - now he felt hunted. Felt so horrifyingly vulnerable in a way that he never had before. He felt oddly aware of his nudity. Of the way his cock still throbbed. Of the way the ring fit too tightly around his member. Of the way his ass still stung from before, flushed and hot against the cool air of his cell.

Harry’s heartbeat increased as Voldemort’s touch retreated. He knew that the being was still there. He had to be. 

Something soft brushed along his left ankle and he jerked again, his head whipping around though he could see nothing. It had felt like cloth. Voldemort’s robe, he told himself. He took a step back and his arm reached out again, only to jerk back as something brushed against his wrist. It felt thin and smooth as silk, and a moment later it wrapped around his wrist, tightening until it bordered on uncomfortable. 

Harry reached over with his other hand to pull the cloth away, only for his other wrist to be bound as well and both arms were pulled behind him by a strip of cloth that fluttered against his shoulder, taunting him. For its hold was so strong that it had to be powered by magic and Harry was helpless against it.

He bent his knees a little to stay balanced now that his arms were bent behind him. But no matter how disoriented he was, he refused to kneel. He… he wouldn’t. _He wouldn’t kneel_ , he chanted in his mind, almost as if he needed to convince himself. 

Cloth touched his neck and he flinched, turning his head away. But it did not matter, as it circled his neck, tightening slightly until he noticed the way his breathing laboured just a little against the pressure. He swallowed as it pulled his head back just enough to feel uncomfortable.

There was a brush of cool air upon his cock and Harry felt himself make a noise of surprise, his throat working though he could not hear himself. 

With two of his senses blocked, his skin seemed far too sensitive, and his cock twitched in want, sending an ache right through his loins. He tried to ignore it, but just as the sensations began to fade, there was another gust, and this time Harry’s hips jerked, seeking more. 

His breaths sped up, his anticipation heightening, even as he tried to push the feelings away. He couldn’t let Voldemort control him. Couldn’t let him manipulate him like this. 

And yet -

Harry’s head fell back further as cool air traced his skin, gentle and teasing up his thigh and just past his member. He breathed in deeply, trying to focus on anything but the sensations that danced across his skin, cool and sweet and - 

Harry cut off that train of thought, forcing his mind away from the throbbing of his cock and the seductive pleasure. Perhaps if he thought of his cupboard, small and enclosed, safe from all touches - 

Something hot and wet pressed against the inside of his thigh, practically burning with intensity as it trailed upwards, closer and closer to his groin. 

Harry clenched his jaw as teeth nipped at the sensitive skin next to his balls, and then - oh lord, that hot tongue licked up his cock and Harry couldn’t help the cry that escaped him, vibrating through his chest even though he could not hear himself.

Because oh, it felt so good. A jolt of hot pleasure that made him tremble, hoping, despite everything, for more. He snapped his mouth shut with a click of his teeth, determined not to say anything. Not to make any more noise. 

But he could feel his will tested with each further flick of Voldemort’s tongue along his cock, with each breath that ghosted across his skin. He had thought himself stronger than this, but these sensations, so new and powerful, made his limbs tremble and his thoughts jumble until all he wanted to do was beg for more.

But - he couldn’t give in. Couldn’t - 

Oh lord, oh lord - his cock was engulfed in a hot, wet mouth and suddenly Harry couldn’t breathe as pleasure jolted through him, Voldemort’s tongue moved sinfully up and down, swirling around the head of his member and it was slick and smooth and the pressure was too much. Harry needed - lord, he needed something.

Strong hands gripped his hips, preventing him from thrusting forward, and Harry keened, his body tensing in preparal as he neared the edge, feeling himself about to tip over.

Then the rings around his length pulsed, and magic flared, and Harry nearly sobbed as he felt that edge ripped away, leaving him feeling a sense of loss that was exacerbated by the fact that Voldemort then lifted his lips away. 

And he’d been so close…

Harry wanted to cry, or perhaps scream. But he gritted his teeth against the desire to ask for more - please, more.

Something touched his cock and hope fluttered, only to be doused as he recognized the smooth feel of silken cloth winding its way around his length. It was soft, but against his over-sensitized skin it felt almost painfully rough. 

It bound him tightly and it should have felt better than it did as it constricted around him, but it was cool and chafing, so different from his lord’s hot, wet mouth. Harry’s throat vibrated as a noise of desperation escaped him.

He felt the brush of cloth as Voldemort stood and moved away, only to shiver as Voldemort trailed a hand down his back before cupping his ass. His cheeks were still sore, and Harry hissed at the rough feel of his lord’s hands.

Voldemort brought a hand down on his ass and Harry grunted at the pain, barely realizing that he was already anticipating the being’s soothing touch to ease the pain into pleasure.

His cheeks were pulled apart, revealing his hole, and he flushed at the thought that Voldemort was staring at such an intimate part of him. One that was so very vulnerable. He felt a tingling sensation as Voldemort’s magic rushed through him. He did not know exactly where this was going, but he was starting to feel a little worried. Surely he wasn’t going to - 

He started as a finger traced down and circled his pucker, slick with something that felt a bit like oil. He opened his mouth as if to ask a question, only to flinch as the finger pushed forward, breaching him with a firm push forward. 

He frowned, squirming slightly at the odd sensation. It wasn’t bad, per se, and Voldemort kept talking of pleasure, but he wouldn’t put it past the man to try and trick him into a false sense of security.

Voldemort moved his finger gently, in and out, until Harry was used to the sensation. It was… strange, still, but Harry couldn’t say that he hated it. There was something about it that was arousing, even.

His cock twitched within its confines, still hard and wanting, desperate for attention. But Voldemort paid it no attention, instead adding a second finger and stretching Harry further. He shivered, his breaths increasing at the new sensation of being so full. 

Then Voldemort crooked his fingers, as if searching for something. Harry grimaced and shifted a little, stopping only when Voldemort placed a commanding hand on his hip. The fingers inside him moved again, and - 

Harry shivered as the digits passed over a spot that was strangely sensitive. He shivered as something low and warm curled in his stomach with each brush of Voldemort’s fingers. It didn’t take long before he was writhing and panting, wishing that Voldemort was moving his fingers faster. That there was just a little more.

Then, as if to answer his prayers, Voldemort reached around and grasped his cock, pumping it in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Even through the cloth, it felt warm and the roughened feel of cloth against his length felt strangely… _good_. Harry’s head fell back and his mind clouded, his skin so very sensitive and hyper-aware of every touch, every brush, every breath.

The pleasure began to build once more, more insistent this time. His balls throbbed, feeling swollen and aching with an almost painful need. He was sure that he was making embarrassing sounds, but he couldn’t help it as his body was stimulated until it was straining and yearning, his thoughts falling to the wayside as pleasure overtook every nerve, every heartbeat. 

He was hot and tensing so hard that his muscles threatened to cramp. He could barely breathe, he felt so close. Just a little more and he would tip over the edge. Would feel this divine pleasure Voldemort had promised him.

And yet… 

And yet as it stood, he knew he would be denied again. Knew that Voldemort would not bless him until he kneeled.

And Harry had to wonder, then, why he did not simply give in. What was he truly resisting? What was he fighting? As Voldemort’s fingers brushed against that spot again and again, Harry found that he could not quite remember why he had been so stubborn.

Surely he could bend his knees, if only just this once? He had but to kneel. He did not have to swear any oaths of loyalty. Did not have to be honest in his submission. It was just a little lie. What was such a small sin in the face of Harry’s greater goals?

Voldemort’s hands sped up, the man’s lips pressing to his skin, and Harry whined as he felt himself getting so close. So damn close. Any moment now - 

The rings around his cock pulsed once again, and Harry sobbed. His mouth moved, words spilling from his lips as his hips jerked in helpless need. In the agony of want and desire left unfulfilled.

Just this once, he promised himself as he cried out, pleading to his lord for mercy, please, please, please - 

And Voldemort stilled, his lips curling upwards against Harry’s skin.

For a moment Harry thought that the being had lied - had chosen to go back on his word, for he removed his fingers from Harry’s body and stepped away, leaving Harry panting and shaking, anxious for a moment nothing when happened.

Then he felt the tip of Voldemort’s wand against his cheek, and slowly his senses returned. Harry was reluctantly grateful as the being allowed him time to readjust to seeing and hearing.

He squinted as light returned, Voldemort’s face coming into focus as the god-like being watched him in triumph. 

“Harry,” Voldemort purred when Harry could hear once again, “I am very pleased. And as I have promised, so I shall reward. Now,” he flicked his wand and the cloth binding him unwound and fluttered into the shadows as swiftly and silently as they had come. “Kneel for your lord. For your god.”

For a moment Harry hesitated, the last vestiges of his conscious screaming at him not to do this. But he was so tired, and his whole body throbbed with pleasure he could not quite reach, and it was just this once - 

Harry fell to his knees, his muscles unable to tense enough to lower himself slowly. He saw Voldemort’s eyes flash, his teeth gleaming as he grinned down at Harry.

“Such a good boy,” the deity crooned. He ran a hand through Harry’s hair. Then he gripped his head and pushed forward until Harry was forced down, his cheek pressed to the cool ground. It was slightly uncomfortable, but he stayed silent as Voldemort walked behind him and then knelt. There was the sound of robes rustling, and something thick and hot pressed against his entrance.

Harry tensed, his eyes widening “Wha - “ 

Then Voldemort pushed forward, piercing Harry and filling him completely in a single motion. The deity let out a hiss of pleasure, pausing overtop of Harry, his hand coming out to rest on Harry’s shoulder, pushing it almost painfully into the floor.

But all Harry could think of, as he choked for breath, was just how full he was. Just how much it burned to feel Voldemort stretching him far beyond a mere two fingers. And - fuck, just how good it felt to feel him pull out and thrust back in, brushing against that spot again and again. 

Harry’s voice sounded strangely loud to his ears as he cried out, plaintive and pleading as the heat built up, yet again. It was almost too much, with Voldemort’s length piercing him. The friction inside him, the being’s fingers digging into his hips, the constant pressure upon that glorious spot.

“Please,” Harry said, his mind dazed and filled with such glorious sensations. He could barely think. “Please, _please_.”

Time seemed suspended as his god moved above him and inside him and pleasure and pain coalesced into something so divine. Something that surely no mortal could bring about. Something that only his lord, with all his divinity, could bless him with. His cock throbbed and his balls tightened, and oh but Harry wanted. Wanted everything Voldemort could give him. 

“I - I need,” Harry gasped, pressing back with each thrust, barely able to form the proper words.

“Yes,” Voldemort crooned. “You’ve been so very good. And your lord shall reward those who please him.” One of his hands left Harry’s hip and he felt the touch of Voldemort’s wand near his cock.

Then the rings around his member expanded, and Harry cried out in relief as Voldemort thrust, and Harry’s balls tightened, and the world narrowed and rushed and -

Harry came with a cry, his body tensing, his muscles clenching. Distantly he heard Voldemort groan above him, but all he could focus on was the way his cock pulsed, shooting warmth onto his skin and the floor below him. Could only feel the way ecstasy, so sweetly divine, encapsulated him in its embrace, taking him apart until all that was left was his gasping trembling form, twitching with each thrust that continued inside him. 

And Harry wondered why he hadn’t kneeled before. Why had he resisted so?

He moaned as Voldemort bit into his shoulder, the deity tensing and releasing that same warmth inside him, his member throbbing and pulsing as he, too, fell to pleasure.

They breathed almost in sync, Voldemort’s breath hot against his skin as he rested his forehead upon Harry’s shoulder, fingers still digging into his skin. The god shuddered, his cock softening inside Harry. He let out a slight sigh as he shifted his hips, pulling out and leaving Harry feeling oddly empty. 

He thought about trying to push himself up, but he couldn’t muster the strength to move, all of his muscles exhausted. His eyes started to drift close despite his awkward position.

There was the sound of robes rustling behind him. He heard a chuckle behind him and the tingling of magic. Then there was a set of hands lifting him up until he was leaning back against a chair that certainly hadn’t been there a moment ago. Voldemort was seated comfortably, lips curled upwards in a smirk as he positioned Harry so that he was sitting between the man’s legs, his head leaning on the god’s knee. 

“You were very good for me, Harry.” Voldemort carded his long fingers through Harry’s messy hair. “I am very pleased.” 

Green eyes met red and the god smiled down upon his newest worshipper. 

Harry’s eyelids fluttered, his mind and body far too tired to stay awake. His god’s touch was soft and soothing and Harry felt so very sated, his body thrumming with the remnants of divinity’s touch. Sleep pulled at him and he leaned into Voldemort’s hands, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

“Continue to please me, and you shall be rewarded. Displease me, and you will have to be punished,” the god murmured.

Harry hummed a soft response. Just this once, he had promised himself. So he did not fight his position of submission or the luring call of sleep.

Just this once.

**Author's Note:**

> The cell door opened and Lord Voldemort stepped inside, his eyes roaming Harry’s form as he stood, naked and chained. Their eyes met and a slow smile curled the god’s lips.
> 
> “I heard you have been very bad, Harry.”


End file.
